


purgatory

by lithalos



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Gen, does anyone expect anything different from me honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 15:14:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14059692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lithalos/pseuds/lithalos
Summary: Akechi succeeds.





	purgatory

It grew so silent in Leblanc, even with the television blaring old news in the background, or the mild chattering of customers filling the air. Even with noise, white noise, it’s still so empty. Hollow and musty, sickening in how thickly the absence clung to the air.

Akechi tries to swallow it down with a gulp of coffee, to drown the guilt sticking in his throat.

He succeeded—the Phantom Thieves were no longer an issue, _Kurusu_ was no longer an issue, and they all were none-the-wiser. By all means, he should be elated his plans are going this smoothly, that he’s managed to put the leader of the Phantom Thieves six feet under, along with the burdens of his past successes. Akechi should be proud Kurusu was pushing up daisies.

The small, grieving smile Sakura offers as he refills Akechi’s cup kept guilt nestled firmly in his throat. It’s hard to breathe, impossible to speak when Akechi knows the only thing to come from his mouth would just be more lies. Lies won't comfort the old shopkeeper he’s unwittingly grown fond of over the course of many visits and even more cups of coffee. Empty condolences from Akechi, whose hands are stained with the blood of Sakura’s grief, won't help.

So Akechi stays silent.

Eventually the sun drifts away, leaving the shop bathed in flickering artificial light that just about drives Akechi mad. It's just one bad bulb, one stubborn light pulsing with spontaneous darkness in a sea of otherwise bright lights, but it's _just enough_ to be noticeable. Just enough for Akechi’s eyes to be drawn to it, to burn staring at the light quivering under his gaze. He wishes it would just die already.

An eyesore.

 _A nuisance_.

And it's only a moment of staring—or perhaps hours—before the light fizzles out. Akechi tries to blink away the dull hole the light had burned into his vision, almost lamenting it's sudden absence. All it leaves him with is a light bulb-shaped void in his sight and a lingering sense of disappointment.

 _It was time for it to burn out anyways_ , Akechi thinks dully. He doesn't like the childish sadness the light imparts on him, doesn't like the way he foolishly wishes it would flicker on again. Perhaps if he blinks, the light will be on once more.

He blinks. It's not.

“You holding up alright?”

Sakura’s talking to him, trying to strike up a conversation, but it's clear by the tired, defeated note creeping into his voice he'd rather do anything else. Akechi blinks again, shaking the last bits of the fading aura from his eyes and moves to meet Sakura’s gaze. He sees the same tiredness in the old man’s eyes, the same resignation.

No suspicion. No anger. Sakura simply looks old.

“I should be asking you that,” Akechi says, lying through the guilt gumming up his chest. He doesn't want to know how Sakura feels; _he already knows how Sakura feels_. “You two seemed… rather close, after all.”

To his credit, Sakura is a much stronger man than he looks—he doesn't break or fold. Maybe he’s just too tired to do so anymore; _maybe he already has_. “Don't go worrying about an old man like me,” Sakura says with a poor imitation of a reassuring smile. It falters, and the old man looks away. “Its just… he’s a good kid. Was.”

 _If that were true, he wouldn't have been arrested_ , Akechi wants to say. _If that were true, I wouldn't have been forced to kill him._

“Yes, he was,” Akechi says, and despite himself, he means it. “Kurusu was truly something else.”

Not that it mattered. Kurusu’s dead.

Sakura doesn't respond. Akechi doesn't mind that. He likes to think he's growing used to the silence.

Though, it really didn't matter if he ever gets used to it—it's there, by his own hand. Nothing could change that. No amount of well wishing or juvenile remorse would wrench the rot from Kurusu’s corpse. Even if Akechi regrets it, Kurusu wouldn't just swallow the daisies and walk through the door.

Akechi isn't sure how he feels about that. Mostly he just feels as a small child would, having broken a favorite toy. He feels the absence, the loss of an inane and superficial comfort. The reassurance it was there if he had use for it brought him a strange sense of peace. Beyond that, he's not sure.

Though, honestly, Akechi isn't sure how he felt towards Kurusu during life, either. That probably wouldn't help him parse his death. His murder.

Akechi’s eyes slide back to the burnt out lightbulb. How pathetic. He can almost feel Kurusu’s annoyance, almost hear a frustrated huff and a tilt of his head.

“ _If you knew you’d regret it, why do it?_ ”

 _I had to,_ Akechi thinks. It isn't true; he knows it, Kurusu knows it.

_“We could have helped you.”_

_But you didn't._

“ _You never asked._ ”

Akechi turns his eyes to the cold cup of coffee clenched in his hands, but doesn't respond. He didn't want to admit that he was wrong, that he’d _been_ _wrong_ for years now. There had been another option, a different solution other than his single-minded vengeance and immature thirst for his father’s death poorly masked as justice. And if Akechi was to be honest, he had known that. He could have faced it much, much sooner. Instead, he’d lied to himself over and over, day after day, telling himself what he was doing was justified.

Akechi tries to ignore the growing realization his pride was responsible for the uncleansable amount of blood on his hands.

He takes one sip of cold, bland coffee and stands. “I should take my leave—it's getting late.”

Sakura gives him a weak, polite smile. “Keep an old man company every now and again, okay?”

 _Absolutely not,_ Akechi thinks instinctively.

“Of course,” Akechi replies. And despite himself, he means it.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is just take it.


End file.
